Twenty Years
by Keryl Raist
Summary: Snape and Lily, fluffy, sexy goodness.  Hard M for lots of sex.  Snape is about to join the Death Eaters as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.  But he has to say goodbye to his best friend first. Starts off AU there, then follows the rest of the series.
1. August, 1977

The Spell

Severus Snape was nervous. He disliked the feeling intensely, not only because it was so rare, but because it indicated that he was not in total control of his emotions. He needed to work on that.

He sat quietly in a brightly lit suburban drawing room. His hosts were plying him with biscuits and tea and chatting about his new job at the St. Mungo's Antidote Department. He indicated that the job was temporary. In a few years, when Slughorn retired, he would return to Hogwarts to teach Potions. He was intensely aware of the sister, staring daggers at him, while she smoothed her already impeccable skirt one more time. _She doesn't want me here._ He thought. _I better get used to that._

_Why?_ He felt in his head, a second before he heard her footfall on the steps leading to the room. They had discovered this talent almost two years ago. The lone Gryffindor and the oddball Slytherin in NEWT Potions ended up paired together. She had reached for her silver knife, while he poured the requisite three drops of dew into the cauldron. The potion had turned a fine clear shade of green, they looked at each other, joyous at having produced such a difficult potion the first time, and became aware of the other's mind. They had been able to feel each other's thoughts ever since.

In the intervening years they had polished this power. It had made them an intensely effective magical team. Of course, the only place they ever really got to team up was in the Potions lab, but that time had created a respect rarely found between their houses, and that respect had given birth to a deep friendship even more rare.

_That's why I'm here. _He thought back to her. A second later she entered the room. In the deep part of his mind he rejoiced, feeling bathed in warm sunshine. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. "Hi, Sev."

"Hi, Lily." Her parents made the appropriate noises and shuffled out of the room. Her sister lingered a moment longer, still staring daggers at him. Finally he looked back at her, caught her eyes, and projected a thought towards her. _Leave!_ She scurried out of the room as if she had been stung.

"So what brings you to Muggleland?"

"I live in Muggleland too, you know."

"Yes, but it sounded like a good opening line." Her eyes lit while she smiled.

"It happened last night." He rolled up his sleeve, and showed her the ugly charred sign of the Dark Mark. "I won't be able to see you again. I'm officially a member of the Pure Blood Superiority and other Miscellaneous Evil Movement." This time his smile was forced, brittle.

"God, I hope Dumbledore knows what he's doing." She looked bleak.

"I'm convinced he does, but…" The rest went unsaid. His fear of the task ahead, his pride at being the only one good enough to do it, his loneliness at having to go it alone, all floated through his head.

"You won't be alone." She had caught the thought and answered it.

"I'll have to be. If you're still in my head, we'll both get killed. I saw him last night, he's…" and again the images in his head told her what his words could not. He felt her understand, and her sorrow deepen.

She placed her hands on his face, fingers in his hair. She drew his face toward her and began to kiss him, tender and friendly. He pulled her closer, deepened the kiss, felt his passion and his body rise, felt her respond. The query in his mind caught him by surprise. He actually stepped back and spoke out loud, "But you love Potter."

She smiled at him again, and spoke, "It will be a very bad day when I've only enough love in my heart for James Potter." He heard the words and looked into her mind and saw she meant that. Something in her last few weeks as an Unspeakable had changed her views on love. She caught his thoughts and said out loud, "You'd never believe the half of it." Once more the question of going upstairs entered his mind, this time an image of them making love accompanied it.

"Yes," he whispered into her ear, kissing it.

"Hold on," she said, a gleam of humor in her eyes. As if he wasn't holding on already. He felt the squeeze and the heard the pop that placed them in her room. He heard the lock on her door shoot home, and he quickly cast a silencing spell. For simple magic like that wands and words were unnecessary.

The kiss continued. His lips on hers, tongues stroking, intermingled with sucks, and occasional nips. His fingers twined in her hair, the light of sunset made silk in his hands. He felt her joy at his poetry. _You should really write that kind of stuff down._ She thought.

_It doesn't go with my image_.

_And this does?_ Her mind asked playfully.

"Ravishing a helpless little Muggle girl. Oh yes…" He purred back.

She bit him, and his mind focused on the kiss and on her hands stroking his shoulder and back. One of them worked its way up his sleeve to touch his arm. Her finger ran delicately along the now blackened skin, traced along the snake, absolved him of what was to come, and what he would have to do in his role of Loyal Death Eater. She lost her focus when his fingers slid to her neck, and stroked along her collar bone. He slid down to kiss the line between her jaw and the hollow of her neck. She purred back at him, and twined her fingers in his, slowly stroking one of his between two of hers.

Her jumper was in the way, scratchy wool against his chin. He didn't know if he cast the spell or if she did, or if they both did, but clothing vanished. She squirmed against him, stroking her body against his. Smooth skin lightly scented with jasmine and sandalwood rubbed against skin a little too pale, and hair a little too dark.

His heart was beating too fast, his sense of touch too acute. Her lips on his lips, her breasts on his chest, her tummy against his cock, her bush against his leg, her hand moving from his back to his cock. Her fingers skinned back his foreskin, stroked him. Electricity flowed through him. His eyes slid closed as he felt the first spasm hit him. His hips jerked and her hands followed him motion, coaxing more pleasure out of him.

The first thought that hit him was she was supporting his weight. He kept her close but shifted his weight back to his own feet. His head was resting against her neck, and he lifted it to look at her. A fleeting sense of disappointment washed through him. He'd come too quick, but almost before he finished the thought he felt her response. _First time quick, second time slow._

Two thoughts hit him. _Second time?_ and _Where did you learn that?_

She pulled back, took his hand, and led him to her bed. She lay down and gestured for him to join her. He settled on his side facing her. "Yes, there most certainly will be a second time, and blood isn't the only fluid you can work magic with."

He thought about that for a moment. "I guess that shouldn't be a surprise. Is that the kind of thing you do at your job?" He had thought about becoming an Unspeakable himself. He certainly had the skills for it, but Dumbledore had given him a much better offer. Although, if regular sex was part of the job… Maybe Dumbledore's offer hadn't been so hot.

She laughed at his train of though. "Regular research on how magic works, how it came to be, and how we shaped it from wild Sorcery into measured Wizardry is my job. Anything with a very strong emotional content, anything with power of its own can be used to fuel magic." She spoke the words aloud, but his question related to what she was thinking.

"What's the Hero's Farewell?" He asked, stroking her breast.

"Old magic, from the time of the Roman Britain."

"Sex Magic?"

"Usually, but over the years it was tamed down into any sort of valuable token."

"I'm like sex better than any token I can think of."

_Horny goat._ She thought. "You can't carry sex with you," she said.

"I'll carry the memory."

She kissed him. "Yes, you'll remember this 'til the day you die, and quite a bit after." She kept up the kiss, and he heard her explanation in his head. _The Hero's Farewell is a protective spell. One lover to another. By giving something of mine, something with a risk to it…_

"Risk?" He stopped kissing her and propped himself on his elbow.

"Minimal, my period's due tomorrow, but in this version of the spell contraception cannot be used. So, yes, risk." She decided to ignore the horror she felt in his mind for a moment to complete the explanation. "Back then many, many women died in pregnancy or childbirth. More than men died on the battlefield. So her risk took the place of his. Her love shielded him from the battles to come. Time passed; understanding of sex and fertility improved. Almost no one dies in childbirth now, and I know that I usually ovulate between day 13 and 15 of my cycle. So the risk is minimal, but the spell is old, and it is satisfied by our actions." She felt his mind settled back down. His terror calm. "No babies for us," she added to sooth him further.

"Sure?" He stared directly into her eyes and felt and heard her affirmation. He continued looking at her, and she leaned forward to kiss him.

"Not to be greedy or anything, but if memory serves the score is Snape 1, Evans 0, and I'd like to see about evening that up."

"Well then…" He returned to kissing her, keeping his mind in her mind as much as possible. What did she like? This little lick here? Yes. That nibble there? Yes, but not as much. His hand brushed the nape of her neck and she shivered delightedly.

"Roll over." He shut his mind quickly, for this plan to work he needed to be in her mind, but keep her out of his. He felt her questioning when she realized he had gone blank, and quickly reassured her.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Roll over? Is this some sort of Slytherin kink?" She flipped over, rubbing her ass against his crotch. His breath caught for a moment then he answered.

"Yes, I'll be summoning the whips and chains in a moment." He felt her mind stir at that idea, fear and erotic excitement warring with each other. He buried that deep in his mind for later fantasies. For the moment he settled himself straddling her thighs. Her hair was spread out across her back. He gently picked it up and stroked her back with it, while settling it next to her shoulder.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I know you Gryffindors are all straight ahead go for the goal types, but we Slytherins have a reputation of craftiness. Sometimes the most direct route to something is sideways." He began to stoke her shoulders while kissing the back of her neck. He could feel her body arch against his, hear her small moans, and her mind's encouragement. His fingers lingered on her shoulders and then quickly slid to her sides. She giggled as they caressed her ribs, and inhaled sharply when they skimmed over the sides of her breasts.

He knelt and reached forward to run his fingers from the crown of her head to the crease of her buttocks. Severus stopped when he reached her head, aware that the soft stroke of his penis along the crease of her backside was driving her crazy. He carefully shifted his weight a few more times, relishing the soft thrusts of skin on skin before he felt his own control crack and his mind open. His image of sliding between her legs and slipping into her filled her mind. Her answering thrill of arousal overwhelmed him for a moment. He stopped moving, pulled back, snapped his mind closed again, and said, "Not yet. Not until we're even."

He began to kiss his way down her back, stopping to lick certain especially sensitive spots. He switched tactics and positions often to keep her guessing about what he would do next. She gasped when he bit her left butt cheek, and moaned when he began to lightly stroke her pubic hair. He didn't actually ask her to flip back over, but she knew he wanted her on her back for the next bit. Or he knew she wanted to be on her back for the next bit. With each stroke it was harder to tell whose mind was whose.

He was acutely aware of where she wanted to be touched. Her mind was begging him for it, her body whimpering as he stroked closer and closer to the little nub of flesh. As his fingers drew closer, his mind and hers continued to meld. When he finally began to circle her clit with his thumb the wall he had been so carefully trying to hold onto fell. By then he didn't care anymore about putting it back in place. He could feel her pleasure at his touch, that circles were better than up and down, and that she wanted him inside of her as well as stroking her. He eased a finger inside, marveling at how soft and wet she was, marveling at how it felt to be in her, and how it felt to have him inside of her. The gentle slide of wet flesh, a few more rounded strokes and her legs began to shake. He felt the fire flow through her, the clench of muscles, and the tingle from head to toes. When her shaking stopped he scooted up to spoon with her. Her head tucked under his chin, her back to his chest. Both of their minds quiet for the time being.

After some time she turned to face him. Draping one of her legs over his. "You know, we're pretty damn good at this," she said while stroking his chest hair.

"We're pretty damn good at everything we do together." He smiled back at her.

She reached between them to take his cock and place it against her labia. She shifted her hips to stroke against him, sliding wetly from tip to base. His eyes rolled shut and hands clenched at the feeling. _So good._ She felt his mind sigh.

"Want better?" She asked.

"Better," he breathed. His eyes lazed open and locked with hers. She rolled him onto his back and straddled him. She slid along the length of him a few more times, until he was as slick as she. Raised him up, and began to lower herself onto him.

_Oh, fuck, yes!_ Echoed through his mind. His thought? Her thought? Didn't matter. Soft, wet, hot, slick, tight, full, stretch, and sting filled their minds. He no longer knew, or cared, which sensations were his, which were hers.

When she finished her descent he felt her begin the spell. She was right. It was old magic, all will and no words. It tasted different than the spells he was used to. His eyes locked with hers, her hands on his heart, his hands on her hips, he felt the power of it flow from her to him. Felt it envelop him with wash of warm comfort. As her concentration began to recede she started to move again. He was aware of the pace, long and slow from tip to base with not a second hurried, not a centimeter rushed, and of the feel of her hips under his hands, but beyond that he didn't know where he ended and she began.

The pace increased as molten gold wove its way through them. Burning pleasure started where they joined and rushed to their extremities, fingers and toes tingling, nipples tight. She took his hands in hers, pinned them to the bed above his head, and lowering her body to his. Their kisses grew erratic, rougher, matching the rhythm of the rest of their bodies.

He flipped them over, raised her hips to his, pushing deeper into her. She arched up to meet him. Heels against his shoulders, hands grasping his buttocks, urging him deeper, and faster yet. He felt the lightning strike them, course through them, leaving them shaking and sated. The spell closed upon him, he was safe.

The light had begun to change when she woke. He lay next to her, sleeping lightly. He was relaxed, comfortable in a way she had never seen him. She saw the muscles in his face begin to tighten and knew he was awake.

"I thought it was a dream."

"Not this time."

"It will be next time." His face darkened.

"And the time after that," she added, "How about we make a deal? Another round after the victory party."

He smiled at the idea, and answered with his voice light and sarcastic, "Hell, you'll be married to Potter and surrounded by fat babies by the time we get to the victory party."

"I'll never be so married I won't be able to have a celebratory shag with you." He looked positively shocked at her words, and then she felt him warm up to the idea of sleeping with James' wife.

"You would like that wouldn't you." This time her voice held a bit of sharpness to it.

"Screw you, and Potter in one fell swoop…I can't think of anything I'd like better. Well, maybe if I could somehow really piss off Black at the same time." She gave him a gentle slap on the arm.

He stretched lazily, and looked at the clock. "I'll have to go soon. Malfoy is expecting me."

"How can you stand that pretentious git?"

"You like Potter. I like Malfoy. To each his or her own. Besides he always picks up the check, his alcohol is good, and now that I'm officially a Death Eater, he's all but jumping up and down to take me under his wing."

"What does he intend to do with you once you're there?"

"Pick my brain, take credit for my work, and use my skills for the betterment of the Malfoy line. I imagine the first thing I'll be doing is something to finally get Narcissa Black to look his way."

"Uggh."

"It could be worse." He looked about the room. "This is embarrassing, we actually vanished the clothing didn't we?"

She thought about it, "Damn. Well, I was going to mess with their memories, so they thought we spent the afternoon chatting civilly in the parlor about antidote potions. I'll just have to change how they remember the outfits as well."

Five minutes and a few spells later they were dressed and sitting in the living room, civilly chatting about antidote potions. As he stood up to leave she grasped his hand and kissed him once more. After the kiss she rested her forehead against his and whispered, "You be careful."

"As long as I can do this," his mind closed, tight as vault, and he smiled, an edge of bitterness shining through, "I'm safe as houses. You need to work on shutting your mind as well. Dementors will be around, lots of them. They feed him. That much I learned last night. Close your mind, it's more reliable that that Patronus crap. No feelings, and they'll have no interest in you. I have to go. Malfoy will be looking for me soon."

"See you on the other side."

"At the victory party." He walked out. The sister watched him leave, still looking at him as if he was incarnate evil.


	2. November 1, 1981

November First, Four Years Later

Dumbledore had never seen Snape in a worse mood, and that, in and of itself, was saying something. Bleak, forlorn despair radiated off of him.

"I killed her."

"You did no such thing."

"I followed your instructions, gave him the prophecy, and he killed her for it. I may not have cast the spell but I as good as killed her."

Dumbledore was now confused. He knew Snape and Lily had been on friendly terms back in school during their last year, but his reaction seemed much too severe for the length and character of their relationship. He decided to poke the emotional boil and see if he could make it pop.

"I'd think it would be James you'd be regretting. There's no way to pay back that life debt now."

Snape glared at him while speaking, "James was a sodding pillock and I owed him nothing. He didn't do it to save me. He did it to save Lupin. He couldn't have cared less if I lived or died, but he cared very much if Lupin killed someone. But I did owe her…" His voice trailed off while he debated telling Dumbledore about his sorrow. He was used to keeping his own confidences, he'd had no one to really confide in for the last four years, but this burden was more than he wanted on just his shoulders.

"The Hero's Farewell." He saw that Dumbledore looked appropriately shocked. "I see you know the general idea of how the spell works."

Dumbledore nodded. Yes, Lily had known that spell, it was part of what she studied as an Unspeakable, but Snape? Well, he had certainly fit the bill for the part of the Hero. He looked at Snape more carefully, and yes, the lingering trace of the spell was there.

"Four years ago she cast it on me, gave me her protection, kept me safe on this dark journey, and I gave him the information that killed her."

"Severus, I cannot stress this enough, you did not kill her. If anyone killed Lily, besides Voldemort, it was Lily." Dumbledore saw rage and grief flare in Snape's eyes and decided he needed to get to the point fast, before Snape attacked him.

"Lily studied old magic. She learned how no prophecy in the entire history of mankind has ever turned out well for the person who set it in motion. She was the one who created the spell to make Sybil a prophet of Voldemort. She was the one who created the prophecy that we fed him. And she was the one who decided to place herself as the bait for the trap. You acted your part, but you were doing it in her play.

"Lily knew we were losing. Fifty of us died in the year prior to her discovery of how to create a prophecy. She came to me once she had discovered it, and we put it into motion. A year passed and no Wizarding babies were born at the end of July, so that October she and Alice Longbottom decided to make sure the next July there would be reason for Voldemort to strike. They both went into it knowing exactly how the situation would end up. Lily placed that protection on Harry on the day of his birth. She knew the only way to trigger it was her death and she hoped that it would cause his curse to rebound upon him."

Dumbledore waved his wand absently and a pile of papers materialized on his desk. "She gave me this before she went into hiding after Harry's birth. It's her research. Had she lived she would have turned it into a book and published. As you can see, she didn't really think she'd live, or she would have kept it. I think you will find it comforting, though."

Snape took the papers, his emotions once more in check. "I actually came to tell you to make sure the Longbottoms are very well hidden. Bellatrix is out to make sure that anyone who could be been the child mentioned in the Prophecy dies soon, and painfully. Take her threat seriously, Bellatrix is an unpleasant person."

Snape retired with her papers, and a lessened sense of guilt, but a greater sense of loss, to his rooms beneath the castle. They were not particularly well organized but he could see the seeds of the plan Dumbledore talked about in her research on Prophecy. She had found that of old Prophecy was used as a way to trick someone with great hubris into an action that would bring about his or her own doom. Her wit flashed trough what would have otherwise been dry scholarly prose. He could see the way she would have said the words he now read.

He flipped to an older page, probably one of her first notes, and found a discourse on something called "Women's Magic." Menstrual magic, calling down the moon, midwifery, herbalism (_Potions!_ She noted beside it.) he scanned the pages with interest but not fascination until he hit "The Hero's Farewell." Well, no wonder the old bat knew what the spell was. Dumbledore had probably read her description of it.

_"The Hero's Farewell is one of the oldest examples of women's magic. It is also, interestingly enough, one of the only spells a properly motivated Muggle can cast as well. (It does not work as well for them as it does for us, the protection falling more under the heading of 'very good luck' than the shielding the spell will create for us. But, as some of the women who used it found, very good luck was enough to bring their men home.) Although the first use of this spell is unknown, variants of have been mentioned as far back as Roman Britain, where it appears to have been used to protect some of the well loved men who fought under Bodicca against the Romans. The spell does not require a wand, memorized words, or any other tangible component. It is entirely an act of love and will. Later versions of it do involve some physical object, but they are not vital to the functioning of the spell._

_The earliest versions of this spell involve an exchange of risk for risk and the bonding created by the pleasure of sex. An unmarried pregnant woman would find herself ostracized by her tribe, cast out, alone, and that increased the already vast danger of childbirth. This risk, taken upon herself of her own free will, absorbed the risk her beloved faced in his own task_

_The working of the spell is simple (Or not, you need one hell of a lot of concentration to pull it off! _He saw written in the margin next to the paragraph.) _while coupled the woman focuses on the dangers her beloved will face, and wills them to pass him by. The stronger her will, the better her ability to imagine the dangers needing to be faced, the more love she can pour into her man, the better the spell works._

_It is believed that the spell requires that both the woman and her beloved be virgins, but I have been unable to confirm this._

_This spell had largely been ignored during the years between the middle ages and the start of the 20th century. But with the large number of wizards who enlisted during the First World War, and the larger number who fought the Axis or Grindewald (Rumor has it Dumbledore had this spell placed upon him before his fight with Grindewald, he would not confirm said rumor. _Snape's eyes widened at that, and he smiled imagining the conversation where she tried to get him to confirm that rumor. Yes, the Old Goat knew the spell._) during the Second World War it regained popularity, if not a full understanding of how it worked. _

_For obvious reasons, men cannot cast this spell. I did not find anything to indicate they had their own version of it. _

He laid her notes aside and finally allowed himself to cry for her, and for loss of the Victory Party reunion he had been dreaming of for four years.


	3. June 1997

June, 1997

Green eyes framed by dark hair and glasses began to fade, and with them everything else. Snape floated on clouds of blackness: pain, tiredness, and anguish leaching from him. He decided to sleep. He didn't know how long it had been since he had last slept without fear of waking; years, probably twenty years.

It was a scent that pricked his mind back to awareness, sandalwood mixed with jasmine. For a moment he didn't want to open his eyes. It was impossible.

_"Not any longer."_ The voice he had been longing for rang in his mind. His eyes snapped open.

Green eyes, this time framed with auburn hair, looked down at him with tender concern.

He stared up at her, afraid to move, afraid to blink, afraid that any action on his part would make her vanish.

_"I'm not going anywhere."_ Her fingers caressed his cheek and her lips formed a smile.

He scrambled into an upright position, began to embrace her, but stopped short. Holding onto her shoulders he looked at her. He still couldn't quite believe she was there.

_"I really am here."_

He crushed her to himself. Tears began to fall down his cheeks and into her hair. "I've missed you. God, I've missed you! I tried to save you. I begged both of them for you. Dumbledore for protection, and Voldemort for mercy, and it still didn't work. I tried to protect your son, but I couldn't do that either. I tried to avenge you, but Wormtail died too soon, and Voldemort killed me before I could get him…" He continued his litany of failure, but as his words and sobs combined he became unintelligible.

She cradled his head, made soothing noises, allowed him to vent his years of pain and frustration. Finally, as he began to calm down, she pulled back from him, kissed his forehead, and spoke, "You didn't fail me."

She continued before he had a chance to contradict her. "This was the way it had to be. You, me, Harry, we all had a part, and that part ended with our deaths. Harry could not have survived Voldemort without my death. He could not have defeated Voldemort without his own death. He could not have accepted the information you needed to give him without your death. Unlike many of the others in this war, our deaths weren't senseless."

Snape sat quietly. Holding her hands in his, gazing at her, he eventually noticed he was naked, and briefly debated robes, but decided against it. He didn't want to hide from her.

"Did Harry win?"

"Yes, my blood kept him somewhere between alive and dead…" she explained, but he cut her off.

"I don't need the details, not now. I just needed to know that he's truly dead."

"Yes, he's truly dead. We won."

He laid back in the grass beside her. "We're back near the river. Near where we grew up."

"Yes, I think so."

"I was happiest here, those long summer days talking with you about our grand magical futures. I came here the day you got married, and the day after you died. It was autumn then, and the leaves were gone. I had hoped, when I agreed to infiltrate the Death Eaters that you'd love me, that by doing something so brave, so noble, James would slip right out of your mind. But it didn't work that way did it?"

"No, it didn't." She didn't say anything else, because he knew. He knew she had loved him, but that she had loved James more. And how, with each passing day, her relationship with James had deepened, and her memory of him had grown less acute. Slowly, he had become a fondly remembered shadow in her life, while she had remained the focus of his.

"What happens now?" He asked.

"We wait. Eventually, the path will open, and we'll go on."


End file.
